


The one where they meet in a hotel room

by baku_midnight



Series: Hex: Ruin [4]
Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Coercion, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26782198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baku_midnight/pseuds/baku_midnight
Summary: Dwight owes money to a bad person. Luckily, his first client of the day isn't a bastard; in fact, he's kinda awesome.
Relationships: Dwight Fairfield/Evan MacMillan | The Trapper
Series: Hex: Ruin [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714105
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	The one where they meet in a hotel room

His first client. He actually looked…okay. Dwight was thankful for it. His gait was wide and his body large—he must’ve been at least six-and-a-half feet—his head bald, and his clothes shabby, but more in a “just got off work at the site and haven’t had a chance to change” sort of way rather than a “lives in a crack house” sort of way. He didn’t seem all that dirty, or gross, or sickly, the way Dwight had feared someone who did _this_ sort of thing might be. He strode into the hotel room with smooth ease unexpected of a man his rather hefty size, and closed the door neatly behind him, setting the latch and then standing, expectant, before Dwight.

Something about being in a hotel room was like being trapped outside of time and space. A lifetime could pass outside and you’d never know, within the spurious microcosm of a foreign hotel.

Dwight was seated on the end of the bed. The room was clean—this the second thing for which he was grateful. _Count your blessings_ , his mom had always said, and even if the expression most often applied to those birthdays when Dwight didn’t get any presents, it sort-of suited current circumstances. He chewed his lip, struggling not to bring his hand to his mouth and worry at a hangnail like an anxious grade-schooler. He struggled not to shout, actually, though even as he wanted to cry and run away he just sat there, mute and staring at the big stranger at the end of the room.

He was wearing a surgical mask along with sunglasses which together completely obscured his face, making all that was visible the top of his bald head. It was darkened by the sun: the mark of a man who worked with his hands, outside. It contrasted sharply with Dwight’s pale, measly form, he who’d never done manual labor in his life, not since helping his grandparents on the farm one summer when he was 13…but that was such a disaster he’d practically known there and then that he’d be best off behind a desk.

Only, that hadn’t worked out, _either_. It turns out stumbling into a job with no training, no matter how superfluous the description, didn’t exactly bring the big bucks, and taking a loan out from a guy who does all of his business on gregslist.com is not the solution. That’s how he ended up in this mess, Dwight recalled pointedly. Cutting corners, taking the easy way. Never again. After this weekend, it was honest work all the way.

“The mask stays on,” the big man said, gesturing with a calloused pointer finger at his covered nose. “Is that alright? That’s what I told them on the phone.”

“Uh…oh, yes!” Dwight nodded, smiling weakly, his voice leaping just a little too high and making even himself wince at the falseness. “Whatever’s fine. Whatever you, uh…want.”

“Good,” the man said. He started to approach, and Dwight had to fight every instinct to spring from the bed and run. He backed up a little instead, unwisely, falling back with his elbows behind him, in a position much more vulnerable. Wow, his preservation instinct really _was_ lacking. He pondered, spitefully, how he’d managed to stay alive this long, as the man sat down on the edge of the bed next to him.

The bed bowed as the man bent over to untie his boots—dreadfully heavy, steel-toed things—with a sharp tug on the laces, pulling out of them and placing them neatly side-by-side. Then he turned and put his hand for Dwight to shake.

“Evan,” the man said, his voice low and quiet.

Dwight took his hand, finding it nearly double the size of his, work-rough, and tan. A few feather-light scars marred the knuckles, but he grasped Dwight’s hand firmly, shaking it once, twice. So people introduced themselves at these things, did they? That was a thing that happened?

“D-Dwight,” he replied, and Evan gave a small nod.

“Are you ready, Dwight?” he asked.

“Yup! Sure,” Dwight said, wondering if he sounded too eager and if it would be obvious he was _lying_.

Evan climbed over him, placing a hand down on the mattress beside Dwight’s opposing hip, and guiding his other to Dwight’s front. He squeezed his side gently through the button-down shirt, his palm wide enough to cover all of Dwight’s ribcage, which it did, pressing and rubbing gently at his sternum. Dwight’s breath hitched. The man’s hand was warm— _hot_ , in fact, and the trickle of sweat that made its way coldly down Dwight’s side made him suddenly self-conscious. Did he put on enough deodorant? Should he have trimmed a little more downstairs? Did he shave his chin closely enough?

The big hand travelled lower, as Evan leaned further against him, pressing his cheek against Dwight’s neck, breathing deeply. They wouldn’t be kissing, at least: the mask made the shaving concern moot, but the smell of a man’s musky breath and sweat made Dwight shudder a little. Not that he had a problem with men. Mostly he liked whoever would give him the time of day, no matter what secondary characteristics they sported—but that wasn’t the point! This wasn’t a date, this was a job. One weekend. One terrifying, probably disgusting, probably traumatizing weekend, and then it was over.

Evan pressed down and Dwight went to his back, lying on the mattress with his knees hooked still over the end, his ankles sliding out, his hands moving out from his sides. He slid them around on the too cool, too smooth bedcovers, unsure where to put them as Evan continued to neck with him, and slide his hand over Dwight’s stomach. He tugged his button-down out from the waist of his slacks, finding soft, warm white flesh with his hot, rough fingers.

“Am I your first client today?” Evan asked, near to Dwight’s ear, nudging his temple with his nose through the scratchy cotton of his mask.

“Yup.” First client _ever,_ Dwight declined to say. He figured he ought to do something with his hands or it would quickly become even more apparent that he had no clue what he was doing. He reached up and held Evan’s waist, finding the hem of his ratty t-shirt beneath a thick overcoat, and above the border of his belt. He dared not touch lower—safest to not even _look_ lower, he decided, swallowing nervously. Besides, he could _feel_ what was there, anyway. Evan slid his knees out, dipping to bring his pelvis against Dwight’s, the hard lump under his jeans pressing briefly into him before he sat back up.

For a moment Dwight thought he’d screwed up, but Evan only started to strip out of his clothes, prompting Dwight to do the same. He watched, shakily, as Evan shucked out of his coat, revealing shoulders broader than the Great Wall, pecs that swelled outwards beneath a t-shirt worn thin as tissue, and a hard belly above thick thighs. Dwight struggled to unbutton himself while staring dumbly, half-intrigued and half afraid to take his eyes off of the man, like a prey animal that wouldn’t turn his back on a predator. Evan pulled the t-shirt off and then took off his belt, unbuttoning his jeans and rubbing himself through the briefs, sliding a big hand sideways, drawing his half-hard member along his hip, beneath the waistband.

Dwight put his shirt aside, and then got half-way out of his slacks before Evan took hold of his belt and pulled, divesting him off the garment in one swoop, making Dwight gasp and fall backwards. The man might’ve given an amused laugh, though his expression was still a mystery. He reached for Dwight’s now naked belly and pressed his covered face to it, his nose falling to Dwight’s sternum. He lifted Dwight by the waist and walked on his knees up the bed, laying the smaller man out flat beneath him.

“Do you need to prepare yourself?” Evan asked, and Dwight stared at him mutely for a moment.

“Uh…” he thought for a moment. The enema he’d taken earlier was an awkward memory, especially when the audience had been goading and staring daggers at him, but other than that…

Evan reached over to the nightstand where had been left a bottle of lube plug, and pile of assorted condoms, took up a handful, and dropped the various unmentionables on the mattress.

“I guess I…should,” Dwight said, eyes darting. Of course. He knew exactly what to do; he’d seen porn. Strange how they always seemed to skip over this part, though… His _employer_ had kindly provided him with a tidbit of advice that somehow sounded more like a threat: _open up your asshole or you’ll be feeling it in the morning, dumbass._ He took up the bottle of lube and poured a generous portion into his palm. He then looked down at his still-on briefs. “Uh…”

Evan let out a sound that Dwight hoped was amusement rather than frustration and helped Dwight out of his underwear, tugging them down while Dwight lifted onto his toes. It left him completely exposed, and while the temptation to cover himself nagged at him in a voice that sounded like his southern, church-going grandma, he figured it wouldn’t make a lot of sense. This man, sitting patiently on his feet, was paying for…services from what he understood to be…a… Dwight couldn’t say the word, even in his head, his grandma’s voice now joined by his pastor’s, his mom’s, his last boss’s, his junior high PE teacher’s… But he supposed that’s what he was. At least for the moment that he was doing sex work, he was a…

Evan cleared his throat. “Take your time,” he said, shortly, and in a tone that might’ve been sarcastic, maybe even playful, or maybe five-seconds-away-from-strangling-him annoyed, though Dwight’s brain wasn’t working well enough to tell.

“Right,” Dwight nodded, and brought his hand shakily between his legs.

Self-conscious wasn’t even the word. He felt like his skeleton might just up and slink away, he was rattling so hard inside. People did this all the time, right? He could do this. He _had_ _to_ do this. His employer had made it very clear what would happen if he _didn’t_.

He covered his limp cock with one hand, sopping the space beneath it with the other. Legs flat, he lifted his balls out of the way to rub his trembling pucker with his pointer finger, wincing as it connected, and putting slight pressure on the muscle. He pushed inside, just to the first knuckle, and flinched right away.

Evan watched, seemingly bemused, his head tilted to one side. Then he reached for Dwight’s knees and hefted them up, planting his heels, still in socks, on the bed to either side of his hips. He leaned in, taking Dwight’s hand and guiding it into place.

Dwight’s breath caught, scared, but also grateful that Evan was taking a bit of control. It made it easier, and especially as he maneuvered Dwight’s fingers into the right direction and pushed his hand inside, Dwight actually gasped a little. It felt…okay; it wasn’t all grossness and pain, in fact, it was a little bit naughty in a way that made his insides tingle. He breathed out, slowly, as Evan guided a second finger in, and then a third, working Dwight’s hand in and out. Dwight’s head lulled to the side, his eyes sliding shut as he focused on relaxing his muscles, pushing down and tightening back up with each shallow movement.

“You can take as long as you want,” Evan breathed, voice low and actually sultry, rubbing Dwight’s thigh, up and down, with one hand, as he pumped Dwight’s fingers into himself with the other. “We’ve got time. If you don’t want me to put it in…”

“No,” Dwight said hastily, eyes shooting open, “I mean, yes! I mean…we have to. It’s what you paid for, right?”

Evan paused, raising an eyebrow at him. His forehead, above the tinted lenses, wrinkled. Shit. Dwight was screwing this up, too. Couldn’t even make it at the oldest profession…!

“I don’t _have to_ do anything,” Evan replied, and his tone suggested a man who was not used to taking orders. Not like Dwight. Dwight, who did everything he was told, who was too scared to do anything other than comply—

“No, I mean,” Dwight put his clean hand on Evan’s arm, giving it a firm stroke. The bicep was massive and metal-hard under his fingers, “you want to, right? That’s what you paid for.”

Evan then sat back on his heels.

“Are you being coerced into this?” he asked, and Dwight felt the blood rush away from his face.

He felt suddenly cold, shaken, and shot upright, grabbing Evan’s arms. The man looked suddenly disgusted with him, perched still and flaccid on the too-clean mattress.

“No, it’s not… _yes,_ but I just…” He took a deep breath, gaze darting to the shelf where he knew a camera was perched, small and unseen, somewhere in the woodwork, and another likely in the ceiling, hidden in the smoke detector. He knew what was expected of him, and he knew what would happen if he didn’t come through.

“I…owe someone,” Dwight explained, “I made a deal for one weekend of work. He’s got a bunch of clients lined up, and he’s watching. He’s got cameras in the room. I’m pretty sure he _owns_ this hotel, and…”

Evan let out a sigh, one that raised his broad chest with its force. “So you don’t actually _do_ this?”

“No.”

“Alright, then, we’ll lie.”

“No!” Dwight trembled. The instructions were clear. It wasn’t even about the money, it was about humiliating Dwight. Teaching him a lesson, that’s what he’d said. Making him remember. _Let them all fuck you, or I’ll do it myself, and you_ won’t _like it._ Dwight shuddered. “You have to… _put it in_ me. Or he’ll…I dunno, beat me? Kill me? Honestly, I don’t trust him one bit.”

“Let me see him. I’ll straighten him out,” Evan said, and with a sense of cold surety that spoke of experience, or at least the confidence to make Dwight think maybe he could actually _do_ something. Maybe. But…

“No, you can’t,” Dwight insisted, “he’s got like, a dozen guys in the hotel alone. He’s got guns, bodyguards… and if you leave, I’ll…”

The large man looked irritated. For a moment, Dwight expected Evan to turn on him, even hurt him. He’d been tricked. He’d probably expected some no-strings-attached intimacy and was instead now stuck in a bugged hotel room with a guy who was clueless about sex, tactless with words and basically a hostage. They were trapped here, pitted against each other.

“I’ll go slow,” Evan said, “try to relax.”

Dwight felt nearly faint with relief. He fell against Evan’s chest, nearly hugging him, before pulling shyly away. “Sorry.” The gesture was too friendly. But he was not rebuffed. Evan simply guided him gently down onto his back again with a hand in the middle of his chest.

Dwight’s heart was racing, and he peered subconsciously over at the camera on the shelf, or where he expected it to be. He looked back at Evan. Examining more closely, he could see that the man was covered in scars, mostly old, on his shoulders, chest and arms. His hands were rust-coloured, his knuckles grey, his body firm, but aged. The stains that made his jeans look grungy Dwight could now tell were different hues of paint.

“Why the mask?” Dwight asked, shyly, as hands stroked down his thighs.

Evan huffed but didn’t answer.

Dwight gasped as a finger found his hole again. It was a sudden pressure, which eased as he breathed out, replaced then by a warmness. Evan slid two inside him, opening them incrementally while Dwight hissed and squeezed the covers.

“Move your hips however you want,” Evan said, “up, down, side to side, whatever works for you.”

Dwight breathed in and out. He was thankful, truly lucky that his first client today wasn’t a power-tripping, roid-raging freak like last employer, or a sadistic pervert like his current one. It reminded him shortly of the fact he’d have another dozen strangers between his legs by the time the day was done, but he tried not to think about it, focusing instead on the light pressure parting his asshole.

While he worked to open Dwight, Evan took himself out of his briefs with his other hand, giving his cock a long stroke, guiding it up towards his stomach. It dipped seemingly under its own weight, and Dwight let out a quiet, “ _Shit_ …”

They tended to skip over this part in porn, too. It was just a teeny bit of foreplay and then smash-cut to a filthy close-up of the pounding, Dwight realized, head swimming just a little with the thought of sticking that thing up inside him. He was once again thankful that Evan didn’t just tip him over and force that into him, but then he realized he was thankful for expecting the most basic amount of courtesy. Maybe he wasn’t used to being treated carefully like this: Evan was practically coddling him, smoothing softly up and down his leg, letting Dwight’s breathing even out before thrusting his fingers at another angle, then letting him relax again. When the fingers parted from him, Dwight was sorry to feel them go.

Evan dragged Dwight up by the hips until he was reclined in his lap. He snapped his fingers at the pillow above Dwight’s head and Dwight handed it to him, finding it under his back, lifting his bottom. Then, Evan was rolling on a condom and lining himself up, pressing the head of his cock into Dwight’s hole. It gave only slightly before Dwight was flinching and tightening up, his hand shooting out to grasp the coral bedcovers.

“Oh shit,” he swore, breathing hard, “sorry… I’m—”

“It’s fine,” Evan whispered. He seemed more pleased than frustrated, and Dwight could only hope that he wasn’t too disappointed to get an abject beginner for a partner rather than someone who had any idea how to do this. For his part, Dwight wasn’t sure if he was more turned on or more horrified. What if it didn’t fit? What if it stretched him out so much it never went back to shape? What if—

Evan inched forward a little more, his cockhead spearing open Dwight’s channel, which parted for its girth. His voice quivered, a moan breaking from his lips as Evan slid in further, further. The pain was unimaginable, something dull but not deadly, not like a wounding pain, but instead a pain of effort. Dwight choked on a groan Evan gave another short push and then stopped, panting lightly himself.

Evan took Dwight’s hands and lead them to where they were connected, guiding his fingers to feel his anus spread wide around Evan’s throbbing shaft. Dwight swallowed past a lump in his throat, feeling the soft skin above his hole and the fire-hot hardness of Evan’s cock, and the sizeable remainder of it still outside of him. God, there was _more_ … Dwight’s head rolled back, eyes fluttering shut.

The man began to thrust, rocking forward slowly at first and then setting a short, quick pace. Dwight let his hands wander to thick thighs, hard knees, and a slightly obtuse gut that obscured what was doubtless a thick layer of muscle. Pleasure seeped through him like rain through a crack—at first all he could feel was pressure, a biting, gripping pain, but sweetness came through as well, and sugared his insides with light. His guts twisted with anticipation as Evan reached for his lap and gave his cock a few friendly squeezes, making him gasp and turn.

Dwight realized he was barely moving, just lying back and letting himself be taken. It seemed lopsided, and he tried to lift his hips in time with Evan’s steady pistoning in between his knees. The sensation was heightened instantly and Dwight nearly doubled over with shock as an electric impulse scattered up his spine as s _omething_ inside him was hit.

“Oh my God,” Dwight said, knowing his southern grandma would slap him for the blasphemy—that is, if she somehow didn’t notice what _else_ was going on. _Alright, don’t think about that when his dick is all up inside you_ , Dwight thought desperately, squeezing his eyes shut against tears of exertion.

Evan suddenly pulled out, pushing Dwight’s knees together. He entered again and Dwight keened, planting his ankles against Evan’s collarbones and tugging excitedly at his own cock, his nipples standing happily on his chest and his white belly heaving. After another few ecstatic seconds Evan pulled out again, and turned Dwight onto his side. Dwight gripped a pillow, his back making a curve like a crescent as Evan fed himself back in.

“Oh my God, oh my _God_ ,” Dwight crooned, rocking back on Evan’s cock. It struck a chord deep in him and his legs kicked out in the air like a spooked deer’s as electric fluid shock tumbled through him. Evan was machine-like in his movements, his breath jutting through the mask that concealed his countenance and covered him in mystery. Surely there was no closer they could get; why was privacy necessary? Dwight moaned, biting the pillow beneath him to stifle an erratic _groan_ , before, to his horror, Evan pulled out again.

“W-wait,” he reached back for Evan’s thick hip, fingers encroaching just hardly into stone-dense flesh, finding a thick scar there to match those on the shoulders. “Just—just…”

Evan pushed in again and Dwight yelped, his back bowed again, his head thrown back. “Oh shit, _Evan_ …”

The sound of his name seemed to spur him on and the man hurried his thrusts until he was pumping rapidly, knocking Dwight up the mattress with each push. He planted his hands on either side of Dwight, making fists of the covers with his overlarge hands. Dwight’s shot out to grip his wrist.

“Just d-don’t pull out,” Dwight gasped, “please. Don’t pull out. Stay in me. Stay in _me_ —”

He moaned and rolled his hips back, meeting Evan’s thrusts, which suddenly drew longer and slower. With each push he seemed to actually get bigger, and with wide eyes Dwight realized he was going in the _whole way_. There was an entire remaining inch or so of him left, Dwight knew, and with shaking hands accepted the cock deeper. With a few slow pushes, Evan hilted himself entirely and Dwight’s hands clawed at his stomach before desperately seeking the covers, nails sinking through the fibres. The pain was too much; he felt like he might black out, but the silky-fire feeling of the cock opening his insides drenched him in pleasure as well. Moans slipped unbidden from his throat, a speckle of drool wetting his pink bottom lip.

“Evan, Evan,” he babbled, reaching up to hide his eyes as he realized he was about to reach his peak without attention to his own cock, which was slapping against his belly with each rocking thrust with which Evan plied him. He let out a sound halfway between a moan and a _sob_ as he spurted hot fluid onto his navel, dragging his hands through his hair and down to his chest.

He twisted so his upper half faced the ceiling while his lower side the wall, rubbing his chest for comfort, pinching a nipple. Orgasm was still heavy in his senses, making him flush and swoon, and Evan’s movements in him were so perfect…it was like the best porn he’d always wanted but they never made. He lifted up to touch Evan’s cheek, reaching only as far as his breast and laying a hand on a heaving pec.

“Let me see,” he panted out, “your face.”

Evan was hesitant, but made hasty by arousal, and lifted a hand from where it bracketed Dwight’s hip to tear his mask away. The elastic snapped against his cheek and he tossed the mask aside, and removing the sunglasses as well, revealed his face. He was darkly…handsome, with a firm jaw, startling green eyes, a clean-shaven, sun-coloured face, and a huge scar over his eye, nose, and all the way to his lip. He made a frightening sight, Dwight thought, his heart rising awkwardly to the back of his tongue, before a fresh stab of pleasure, strengthened by the intimacy of looking one another in the eye, knocked him aside.

Dwight cried out, yelps and moans coming higher and airier until he was gasping for breath, Evan pumping eagerly up into his belly. The man gave a few short, excited thrusts before pushing deep, _so_ deep Dwight felt his eyes water, and came, remaining deeply hilted before wriggling back a bit and staying half-in. Dwight was shaking, thighs trembling, tears rolling into the hair at his temples, onto his ears. It was good. So good. Better than he could’ve expected.

“Th-thank you,” Dwight whispered, tongue loosened post-sex, “for being my first.”

“First of the day?” Evan asked, breathing harshly, and when Dwight sheepishly didn’t answer, said, “oh, _Jesus Christ_.”

Dwight bit the inside of his cheek. “Sorry,” he whispered, and then Evan was pulling out, seeming to drag Dwight’s insides with him. It was a long, slow slide, reminding Dwight markedly of just how much he’d taken in. He was almost proud of himself, and for a second forgot about his remaining half-dozen clients. He sat up quickly, running a hand through messy sprigs of ebon hair, scooting away from Evan’s lap.

“Shit,” he swore, “I should clean up. I’ve got…”

He saw Evan retrieving and starting to put his mask and glasses back on.

“Why do you wear it?” he asked, and the man simply raised an eyebrow at him.

“Come on,” he answered, “scars. I’m an ugly old fuck. No one wants to see this.”

“I don’t think so,” Dwight said, rubbing his back as he sat up. Now that the sex was wearing off his back was quickly remembering how being folded in half _actually_ felt. “I mean, who cares what people think, right? but, you’re handsome.”

He blushed. Too friendly, again. Or maybe that’s what he was supposed to do? The pretense was completely gone, anyway.

Evan stared at him, stone-faced, but briefly, the smallest hint of a smirk landed in the corner of his mouth. He took the mask but put it in his pocket instead of putting it on again.

Dwight looked at his lap. He had ruddy bruise marks on his hips that he only liked because they were given by Evan—he didn’t want to think about what it’d be like to have a bunch more strangers touching his body, squeezing and pinching here and there, maybe even hurting him. His employer had made it clear that that wasn’t off the table. His dejected look must’ve caught Evan’s attention, because the man returned from toweling himself off in the bathroom and stopped at the end of the bed.

“Now what happens?” he asked, and Dwight rolled his shoulder.

“I get to meet a dozen more men, and…” he gestured with his fingers, putting one through the circle of the others. “He said 13 clients oughta be enough to pay him off.” He’d said some of his associates do a dozen a day, and Dwight, naively, accepted it. Not that he had much choice.

“Do you want to do this?”

Dwight tried to nod, but it felt distinctly harder to lie to the man now that’d he’d become so acquainted with his insides.

“I could always buy the whole weekend,” Evan said, nonchalantly, and Dwight’s eyes snapped open.

“What?” he stared, thinking he’d heard wrong. But Evan was looking calm and measured as if it were the most normal thing in the world to reveal.

“It’s fine; what else am I gonna spend the money on?” Evan said, and Dwight shook his head.

“I don’t think you know how much it is I owe,” he said, but Evan just chuckled.

“You know MacMillan Manufacturing?” he said. The largest local manufacturing conglomerate, nearly 50 years in business—indeed, Dwight knew it. “It’s my dad’s. I don’t work there, though. Leaving was the best decision I ever made. Didn’t get away without a few scratches”—he gestured to the scar that bisected his lip—“but the old man couldn’t cut me out of his will before he kicked it.”

Dwight stared at him, wide-eyed. “Are you serious?”

Evan and pulled his phone from his jeans, clicking the screen with a broad thumbtip and putting it to his ear. He smirked over at Dwight, who had pulled his knees into his chest and was watching him with nervous anticipation.

“I’ll be sticking around for the day,” Evan murmured into the microphone, and a voice on the other end replied with something low and fierce that Dwight couldn’t hear but made him flinch. God, just what the hell had he gotten himself into? “Yes, I understand,” Evan continued, “that’s fine.”

He hung up and Dwight continued to stare, slack-jawed and nude. “Is it…was he angry?”

“It’s fine,” Evan answered, “we’re good. You’re paid off.”

Dwight breathed a sigh of relief, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t had someone stand up for him like that for frankly years, and his stomach, still tingly from sex, gave a grateful twinge. “Thank you,” he said softly, and squeezed his knees to his chest, “thank you so much. You’re so kind.”

Evan made a sound of bemusement, or maybe even disbelief, and rolled his shoulder. Dwight put a hand on his knee.

“Seriously,” Dwight said, “no one has ever… really, thank you.”

Evan gave a smirk and moved towards him, grabbing Dwight’s ankles and pulling them out from beneath him, dropping Dwight onto his back with an “oof!”

“Maybe I just didn’t want anyone else touching you,” Evan hissed, pressing his lips to the centre of Dwight’s chest and making him swoon.

With Evan’s arms around him, the day felt like it would be a lot less terrifying and a lot more fun.


End file.
